


Blood and Bonds

by Vultoni_and_Arnaera



Series: VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition [1]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, No Beta, Non-Graphic Violence, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vultoni_and_Arnaera/pseuds/Vultoni_and_Arnaera
Summary: Humans aren't the friendliest species to co-exist with. They lash out at the unknown violently and with no consideration for the sentient creatures they may be hurting with their actions.The vampires of the Toppat Coven are used to the hunters living in the nearby human settlement of Darkholme, as well as the threat they pose. When two of their clanmates are badly injured by the hunters, the clan, especially their ruling lord, want revenge. Blood for blood may be the way of beasts, but these creatures of the night are more monster than man.
Relationships: Reginald Copperbottom/Right Hand Man/Henry Stickmin
Series: VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002828
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Blood and Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> OOC Level: Pretty high. It's mostly Right, but everyone's at least a little bit out of character.
> 
> Inspired by FlamingRedAnon's Vampire AU. In particular this pic: (https://flamingredanon.tumblr.com/post/631551906769174528/today-lessons-for-those-poor-villagers-dont-try)
> 
> Hello there! If this is your first time reading this fic, ignore this part. To my dear re-readers, I'm going to address the major change to the formatting. Before, this was part of a work known as "VnA’s Fic Dump - HSC Edition." I've decided to make each work I had planned for the Drabble Dump their own fic in a collection with the name. It's pretty much the same thing, I just wanted to change the formatting!
> 
> Cross-Posted on Tumblr at vultoni-and-arnaera.
> 
> As always, feedback of any kind is always appreciated!

Everything ached, but he couldn’t stop moving. They were so close to home, so close to the warmth and safety of the coven. Right’s limp body was draped over shoulder, and if not for the thrum of dark magic he could still sense in him, he wouldn’t know if he was still alive.

The cave entrance was just in front of them, and Henry stumbled forward. He couldn’t falter now, not while his love’s life was in danger.

He threw his weight against the concealed door, slamming it open and nearly knocking them to the floor. Home, they were finally home.

The foyer was lavishly decorated, looking aged and regal. It was a good fit for the creatures of the night who lived there, especially their lord. He always loved such antiquated style, said it suited him well.

Henry ignored it now, pushing right on through. He had to get to the main hall, couldn’t afford to collapse here. Right’s injuries were bad enough to need immediate attention.

After what felt like an eternity, he found himself at the large, elaborate doors. Etiquette usually dictated that he wait, knock on the door and wait for that elegant voice to bid him enter. His fogged mind threw all proper mannerisms to the wind. The only though that wasn’t wiped away by the pain and exhaustion was of Right.

He won’t fail him, not again.

* * *

Reginald looked up, startled, as the door slammed open. He drew himself to his full height, prepared to unleash his wrath on the fool who dared disturb him in such a manner. Any member of the coven would know to knock.

The sight of his two lovers, beaten and bleeding, pushed all violent thoughts from him mind. 

He’s out of his throne and down the steps in an instant, just in time to catch Henry as he falls to the floor. He’s trembling, shaking like a leaf as Reginald gathers him in his arms. In the same motion he relieves him of Right’s dead weight. A quick check tells him Right’s just unconscious, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

They were alive, injured, but alive. He’d feared the worst upon seeing them.

Henry melts into his embrace, eyes slipping closed. Reginald could feel the tension slip from his body, becoming limp and pliant in his arms. How far had he carried Right? How long had he ignored his own injuries to get his lover home?

Reginald could smell their blood in the air, could tell just how weakened they both were. Right may be the only one unconscious, but Henry looked like he would drop any second.

That just wouldn’t do.

He lays Right down, gently as not to jostle any injuries, and cups Henry’s face in his hands. Those deep blue eyes meet his, tears gathered around the edges.

Reginald moves his hand, tenderly wiping away the tears. It hurts his heart to see Henry like this. He places a kiss on Henry’s brow and runs a hand through his hair.

“Who did this to you, love?”

Henry shudders in his arms and whispers out a series of names. Reginald recognizes them as the names of local hunters and feels the rage in him grow.

They will pay for this, every drop of spilled blood paid back hundred-fold. But first, he must make sure his lovers are safe.

“You’ve fought bravely Henry, but you’re safe now. You’re tired and aching, and it’s time to rest,” Reginald says, holding him close. Henry nods against his chest, and he can feel the exhaustion radiating off him in waves.

“Go, slip into a healing slumber, and leave the rest to me.”

He makes a noise of protest, pulling against his arms. Reginald lets him go. He’s resisting for a reason, and Reginald trusts him to know his limits.

“Wait, not yet. Right, he-”

“I will take care of him,” Reginald reassures, “he will be just fine.”

With that, the last of the tension bleeds from Henry’s body. Satisfied, he lets Reginald help him to one of the lavish seats scattered throughout the hall. His eyes are half-closed already, and he gives him a tired smile. Then his eyes close and he’s out like a light. 

Fondness blooms in Reginald’s chest. He reaches out and loosens the clasp on Henry’s shirt, letting it fall open. The hard jewel on the clasp digging into his skin would be an unwelcome way to be awoken.

With that done Reginald turns back to Right. He lifts him in his arms and moves to one of the seats. He sits, setting Right in his lap and goes to remove his cravat.

Right will need more than just sleep. His injuries are severe enough that he needs something else.

Reginald unbuttons the top of his shirt and slides it off, exposing his neck and shoulders. He lifts a pale hand to the crook of his neck, resting his talon-like nails there. And without hesitation, he slices them into his skin.

Dark red blood wells from the slash wound, too dark to be human. He keeps his hand there, letting the blood coat his fingers. Once a satisfactory amount has welled up, Reginald pulls his hand away.

This part was always the trickiest. He lowers his hand, coated in his own blood, and moves it close to Right’s lips.

The reaction wasn’t immediate, but Reginald felt the body in his arms tense, unconsciously reacting to the scent of blood. Right’s baser instincts kicked in and slowly two murky eyes opened.

They were glassy and unfocused, no intelligence behind them. He might as well be staring into the eyes of a wild animal for as present as Right was. A low growl echoed through the chamber as Right’s glazed eyes fixed on him. Reginald didn’t waver, keeping a firm hold on his lover.

He moved, slowly drawing the bloodied hand back. Right followed like a puppet on a string, his mind gone under his vampiric nature. He rested the hand just behind the sluggishly-bleeding cut. The worst was almost over.

Right practically crawled on him to follow. Under any other circumstances Reginald would find it cute, but not this one. He shifted, tilting his head to expose the wound more.

He sees Right’s pupils dilate, the dark slits waxing like the moon. The amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by those dark pits. He then lunged, pinning Reginald to the back of the chair and sinking his fangs into the cut.

Reginald lets himself be pinned, knowing that playing into the instincts controlling Right would make this easier. He felt hair tickle his neck as Right fed from him.

They didn’t resort to this often. Normally sleep and a meal would heal any injury. Only when one of their lives were on the line would they turn to this. The healing properties that came from feeding on another vampire were only used in emergencies.

And this definitely qualified as an emergency. Reginald knew first-hand how capable his lovers were, but this had shaken all of them. The ‘what-ifs’ infecting his mind tortured him, letting him know just how close he’d come to losing them.

He would not let this go unpunished.

Once Right was back in his own head and he and Henry were safely within their shared chamber, then he would settle the score. Those pathetic mortals would see their last sunset for this. He would spill out their life’s blood, paint it on the walls of that miserable settlement. They had chosen to live so close to the coven, and while he had let it slide before, blamed it on human ignorance, he would turn a blind eye no longer. Enough was enough.

The streets of Darkholme would run red tonight.

* * *

A fog has settled on his mind, so thick and deep that it felt like he would be lost within it forever. He was adrift in a dark ocean, so far from the surface he couldn’t even see the light anymore. Not that he needed it. As a dark creature he did not need light to see.

But even this blackness was too much. He wants to be back in their chamber, feeling his lovers intimately close as the sunlit hours passed.

The clarity came slowly, rolling in like the tide. He registered the soreness first, the pain in his limbs and chest. Next, he felt a warm body under him and the distinct feeling of a good feeding in his system.

Then he registered what he was doing, recognizing the feeling of his fangs in flesh.

Right jerked back, retracting his fangs in a rush. He pried his eyes open, forced himself to look. He half-expected carnage, the result of a mindless rampage that would account for the blankness in his memories. 

There’s no carnage, no slain humans or livestock that he’d unconsciously preyed upon. There is only Reginald, holding him close.

Right sinks into his hold, the panic-born strength dried up. He feels wrung-out, knocked down and run over. It takes his sluggish brain a moment too long to realize what he’d been doing, and the realization makes him blush.

He’d been feeding on Reginald, mindlessly taking from him like an animal. Sometimes he hated his instincts, hated how mindless they could make him. He buried his face in Reginald’s chest, embarrassment burning in his veins.

“None of that now,” Reginald said, shifting him into a hug, “don’t feel shame for your needs. You know I wouldn’t have done this without good reason.”

He does know, remembers the circumstances under which they’d fed from each other before. If only he could remember what happened.

“Don’t strain yourself. It will come back in time. You are still healing, so don’t push yourself.”

He lets himself slump against Reginald, letting his mind rest. With the strain gone, pieces begin to come back on their own.

He’d been cornered by some humans from the nearby settlement, cornered and beaten by those mongrels. He remembered wanting to make them pay, making them bleed, and being bloodied in return. He remembered his strength failing, the silver crossbow bolt in his chest sapping it. He remembered being forced to take a knee in front of those bastards, almost like he was submitting to them. He remembered-

Right’s eyes widened.

-Henry, standing over him. Henry, planting himself between Right and the humans. Henry, bleeding from a silver knife as they fought back-to-back.

He shifted in Reginald’s arms, turning to look around the room. Henry wouldn’t have left him like this. He knows he wouldn’t, so where was he?

Right spots vibrant white hair in the corner of his eye. He turns, feeling relief to know he’s safe.

He finally sees Henry, and his blood runs cold.

He’s deathly still with blood soaking through much of his clothes. He looks far too lifeless, like the unholy life-force that sustained them all had left him. Right feels like his heart is splitting apart at the sight.

_No, not him. Please, not him._

He’s reaching out before he knows it, stretching a hand toward his lover. He should’ve protected him better, and the building grief and guilt threatens to tear him apart.

Reginald’s fingers thread with his outstretched hand, pulling it back. He guides their hands to rest against Right’s chest.

“He is safe, love. Henry is merely resting, letting sleep heal his own injuries.”

Right relaxes at those words, content to lay in Reginald’s arms. They’d gotten lucky. Right doesn’t exactly know how, but he knows this was a close one. They could’ve both been killed.

He doesn’t dwell on that now. For now, Right lets himself drift off in Reginald’s safe arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I was kind of playing the vampiric traits by ear. I don't really care for the standard depictions, so if I got some things wrong, oh well.


End file.
